


Highest Bidder

by KehdanaRutherford



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Assassin - Freeform, Bard - Freeform, F/M, Gen, Love, Lust, Multi, Pain, Tragedy, rogue - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 09:15:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14352480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KehdanaRutherford/pseuds/KehdanaRutherford
Summary: This is a story set after the Inquisition Game about a bard. Her life is brought down around her and she must try to pick up the pieces and build something new.





	Highest Bidder

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos, comments, and suggestions are greatly appreciated and help to inspire my work! Thank you!

Her emerald eyes looked up at him through heavy lids, “Do you understand what you are to do?” he asked in his thick accent, clearly marking the man as Orlesian.

Her eyes flickered to the fidgeting stick thin man standing back behind her Master before returning her gaze to the tall pudgy man’s dark beady eyes. She offered a curt nod. The portly man ran a stubby finger across the pale elf’s angled jaw, “Good girl.” His greedy eyes left her, changing focus to the small man sweating in the corner. “My bard will do what you ask. Let's discuss payment,” his hand clapped harshly over the tiny man's shoulder as he spun him towards the door. The men left without so much as a glance back at the elf.

_ Another Orlesian scum trying desperately to claw himself to the top of the Game, _ Kehdana snarled inwardly as she turned to gather her gear.  _ Next week it could be a bounty on his head that keeps me in demand _ . Deftly she shoveled some common clothes, potions, powders, and a handful meager rations into her leather pack; just as she had done a thousand times before. She swept over to her bed rolls, kicking the thick furs aside to reveal a small black box. Kneeling down, she bowed her head, silently somber for several moments before reaching down and opening it. 

Two immaculate tungsten daggers gleamed up at her, the rubies set into their pommels flashing blood red. She traced a loving finger gently along one of the blades edges; the metal was chilled to the touch, but harder than any steel she had encountered.  _ Come friends,  _ she mused,  _ there is work yet to be done.  _

A sharp knock came at the door. Surprised, Kehdana snapped the box shut and slid it into her nearby sack. “Are you ready?” asked the Master’s voice, slightly muffled through the door. Kehdana shouldered her bag, slinging her bow and quiver across her back as she crossed to the door. She swung it open wide to reveal an annoyed looking Master standing before her bidder, who looked rather shaken. “Your wagon is about to depart,” the chubby Orlesian Master huffed before turning and waddling away, leaving Kehdana and the nervous man standing alone in the dim hallway.

Clearing his throat and careful not to make eye contact, the man muttered, “This way,” and began down the hall. The elf followed, a short distance behind, in complete silence save for the soft clink of her Masterwork Prowler Mail as she moved.

The abrupt switch from dim lit cabin to outdoors left the slight man and Kehdana squinting momentarily as they broke out into the day. Shortly though, the elf could make out the stark blue sky and a wall of trees standing against it. Nearby townsfolk gathered in groups, going about their daily activities,  _ No doubt unaware of all the bloodshed being bought right next door,  _ Kehdana noted. The man walked up to the nearest wagon, a small thing with lavish curtains covering the tiny windows, and nodded to the man in leather armor atop the box. The driver eyed Kehdana but said nothing as the little man opened the coach door and stepped aside, motioning for Kehdana to board. She obliged, quietly stepping inside and sitting against the farthest corner from the door. The man followed, carefully positioning himself as far from Kehdana as possible before closing the door behind him. As soon as he did the wagon lurched forward and into motion.

There was a long and uncomfortable stretch of silence as the man wrung his hands in his lap, avoiding all eye contact with the elf. Kehdana didn't mind, she was used to her buyers being afraid of her, and preferred it that way. It was a whispered rumor that she was the best bard for hire in most of Thedas. She could acquire any information, persuade any being, and snuff out any target.

After several minutes of sizing up the twitchy man with her intense jade eyes, he finally cracked. Sweat prickled his brow as he began to speak, “Mah- my name is…” his voice, nearly as frail as he, cracked as he spoke. “Ser Reiss,” he finished. More painstaking silence. “What do I call you?”

Reiss’s sweat beaded up so thickly upon his brow, that it threatened to begin its descent down his forehead. Kehdana was almost slightly amused by the man's anxiety, but after letting him writhe uncomfortably for a few more moments, she relented. “Arya,” she lied, though she was truly known as such by most. Her voice was composed and emotionless, yet smooth and sultry. A visible relief washed over Reiss at her eventual answer and she watched much of the tension drain from his shoulders as he slumped forward slightly.

“And of your task?” he questioned, stiffening with a new wave of apprehension.

Kehdana regarded the man. “We are travelling to Montfort, where I am seeking out Comte Guy de Montfort at the manor during his party. I am to get all information I can about Ser Michel de Chevin’s current whereabouts. After, I am to eliminate the Comte with as little suspicion as I can before leaving; his guests none the wiser.” Reiss nodded several times slowly, a hand mindlessly rubbing over his chin.

Often Kehdana did not get much explanation for why she had been hired, but her interest had been piqued since the mention of Ser Michel de Chevin. As a bard, she had a wealth of knowledge on history and legends; she knew that Michel was Empress Celene’s champion before he became a casualty of the Game, falling prey to Orlais’ brutal politics and prejudices.

It was about a year ago when the Empress was nearly assassinated, only to be saved by the fabled Inquisition. She was unsure what happened to Michel after these events, but rumor circulated that he had joined the Inquisition. Though Kehdana had recently received word the Inquisition had been disband by the new Divine Victoria, she also knew better than to believe the entire army had gone their separate ways.

When Reiss cleared his throat, Kehdana snapped back to reality. She realized the coach had stopped and the nervous man was staring at her, hand half extended forward as if he had intended to rouse her. His arm bolted back to his side and his face twisted briefly with fear before he turned and bolted out of the wagon. Kehdana gracefully exited behind him, as she surveyed the bustling town.

Orlesians just had to dress extravagantly, wearing only expensive and luxurious materials to flaunt their success and status in the Game. Paper thin smiles barely hiding their greed and lust for power. Kehdana knew all too well that the heart of man is easily suade by riches. She had been beaten and trained her entire life to not feel compassion or sympathy; so the Master could sell her loyalties, at will, to the highest bidder. Sometimes she wondered if she would ever feel more than numb, or if she was doomed to be consumed by the emptiness inside her.

She pushed the thoughts away as she followed Reiss up the cracked steps to the doors of the massive stone manor. The large doors, oak Kehdana presumed, slid open with a groan of protest. Two elves, both shorter than Kehdana, held the doors open. They wore little more than tattered rags and they kept their heads bent down, careful not to glance up. Kehdana swallowed the pity she felt rising up at the sight of her kin groveling as slaves. She knew the Master would have thrashed her had he caught even the faintest falter in her demeanor. She hardened again, following Reiss up a marble staircase to the second floor.

He rounded a sharp corner into a small but comfortable room; a large bed loomed in the corner, it's wooden frame twisting up towards the ceiling, next to it sat a small end table and along the opposite wall a dusty wardrobe. “There's some servant clothing in there,” he motioned to the wardrobe, “and the guests will start arriving in a few hours.” 

The elf stared coolly at Reiss, who seemed to shrink under her gaze. “You think me a servant… Ser?” she dared as she arched her brow at the man, the last word dropped between them like lead. Mortified, the man flushed and began fumbling out a string of barely coherent words. Kehdana erupted into shrill laughter, the sound could have been enjoyable if she wasn't so damn scary. 

Reiss moved to exit, turning back just before he disappeared, “My carriage will be back in the morning. You will depart before dawn.. alone.” Then he was gone. Kehdana shut the door behind him and began to prepare.


End file.
